Chapter 67: Audacious Beyond Measure

The depths of winter had passed, and spring was gradually approaching.

Last year had been nothing short of remarkable for Ji Wu. He had assisted the imperial soldiers in crushing the rebels, and his reputation as a young hero had spread throughout the whole of Xishan Prefecture.

Since autumn, the matter of quelling the rebellion had slowly settled. Liu Qingfeng had returned to the capital to report his achievements and receive rewards. By rights, Ji Wu, who had rendered great service, should have accompanied him to the capital to be presented to the Emperor.

But Ji Wu had no real intention of joining the imperial court. Moreover, if he were to go, Xiong Ba would surely accompany him. There was no telling what schemes the aged and muddled Emperor might devise, and that could only complicate matters.

So he simply followed the plan devised by the Scholar of Sin. After being carried to safety by Xiong Ba, Ji Wu inflicted a number of injuries upon himself, claiming he would need several months of rest to recover.

In short, he was gravely injured and unable to return to the capital to see the Emperor. It was an act born of necessity, nothing more.

For most, a single glimpse of the Emperor’s visage and a chance to display one’s worth before him was an opportunity not to be missed. To be remembered by the Emperor was the surest path to meteoric advancement.

But Ji Wu harbored no such ambitions—not even the desire to leave Xishan Prefecture to take up office elsewhere. Even when interrogated by Liu Sanyuan, he showed no trace of aspiration.

Aside from his rather abrupt proposal to marry Liu Sanyuan’s younger sister, he was the very picture of a man unmoved by power or privilege.

As winter approached, the imperial rewards finally arrived.

In addition to the customary gold, silver, and silks, the most significant prize was his official appointment.

He was made Commander of the Campaign Against Rebels in Xishan Prefecture, a temporary fifth-rank post, granting him the authority to recruit up to a thousand local volunteers and militia, as well as borrow up to a thousand imperial troops, and responsibility for ensuring the security of certain official roads.

This was clearly an ad hoc appointment, unprecedented before, likely created by Liu Sanyuan in response to Ji Wu’s request.

In terms of command, this equated to a chiliarch in the imperial army, but with the added autonomy to recruit up to a thousand men. In theory, at full strength, he could command two thousand troops.

But everyone knew that theory and reality often diverged. The imperial court took no responsibility for the pay of the volunteers and militias he recruited; if they distinguished themselves, rewards could be requested, but otherwise, he would have to bear the cost himself.

In plain terms, the court was unwilling to spend money—if one had the ability, he could raise his own men.

Even the thousand imperial troops he could borrow required official applications and approval.

The advantage was that he answered directly to General Liu Sanyuan, with no other superior.

Otherwise, any official post in the bureaucracy was shackled by layers of superiors and subordinates, making it nearly impossible to get anything done.

This position, however, would be abolished once the rebels were pacified, and future rewards would be determined anew.

Strictly speaking, in light of his achievements, this reward was hardly excessive—indeed, it was rather stingy.

What brought true delight, however, was how perfectly it matched Ji Wu’s wishes.

He was thoroughly satisfied—Liu Sanyuan was a man of his word and had not deceived him.

The only matter left unresolved was his proposal to Liu Sanyuan’s younger sister.

Nevertheless, with such honors bestowed, this winter saw the Ji family’s escort agency inundated with visitors—every day, would-be matchmakers wore a path to his door.

Who could blame them? He was yet unmarried.

To all of this, Ji Wu responded: “I am gravely wounded and unable to receive guests. I must rest quietly at home.”

All winter long, he devoted himself to the study of histories of rebellion, enriching his theoretical knowledge and broadening his understanding of insurrection.

When winter finally gave way to spring, after several months of recovery, Ji Wu stepped outside his home once more, taking Xiong Ba with him as he headed into the mountains.

He had already received a message from the Scholar of Sin, delivered by a trusted intermediary—the great fish had taken the bait, and he was invited as a guest.

By “great fish,” of course, was meant a Grandmaster of Martial Arts—such a figure was more than a mere “big fish.” In the common world, such a person would be called a mighty dragon.

It was said that dragons revealed only their heads, never their tails; so too were martial grandmasters elusive among warriors.

To reach the level of a grandmaster required not only rare genius, but also years of grinding hardship—by then, their skills had reached the very pinnacle of mastery.

Such people could attain wealth and glory with ease; even if they turned to the imperial court, they would be received as honored guests.

They might not be the best for leading armies in battle, but when it came to destruction, their lethality was considerable.

There were only a handful of such grandmasters in the world; supporting them was hardly a drain on the imperial coffers so long as they caused no trouble.

Even if they were not given great power, the court could easily guarantee wealth and privilege for them and their families.

Such elite force might not always be used, but it could never be absent.

In the mortal realm, the martial grandmaster stood at the very summit of martial power!

Such a summit was rarely glimpsed, much less recruited.

But there were always exceptions.

Among those drawn to Qi Kingdom by heavenly omens, there were martial grandmasters.

Compared with local grandmasters, these outsiders were even more unrestrained.

The Scholar of Sin had sought out such a man.

After all, every grandmaster native to Qi Kingdom already had their allegiances—some were powers in their own right, enmeshed in a web of interests and far from easy to deal with.

It was the outsiders who might be wooed—provided, of course, that the Immortal was no fraud.

Otherwise, to offend a martial grandmaster, even if one managed to deceive him for a time, once he discovered the truth, his martial prowess was not for show.

If truly angered, with a mind bent on killing, he would be far more ruthless than the court, and even one’s family would not be safe. Ordinary people could neither outrun nor outfight such a foe.

Unless one vanished completely, leaving no trace, only death awaited.

Ji Wu had used the banner of the Immortal to win the Scholar of Sin’s assistance, and the latter, a bold man, used it in turn to draw in the pinnacle of worldly strength—a martial grandmaster.

If the Immortal was real, he could persuade the grandmaster to help; if not, he had best prepare for the grandmaster’s wrath.

This was why, before the final act of luring the enemy, the Scholar of Sin had once more asked whether it was all true.

Ji Wu, however, had never considered the matter twice—his words were nothing but the truth, without the slightest falsehood.

As he traveled with Xiong Ba, his mind was full of anticipation for meeting the martial grandmaster, and he felt a strange excitement.

Since he had first begun training in martial arts, he had known that the grandmaster was the pinnacle, yet had never seen one in person. Such a meeting meant something entirely different from encountering an Immortal.

When they arrived at a secluded mountain hollow, two figures were already waiting.

One was the Scholar of Sin, recovered after half a year’s convalescence; the other was a burly, imposing man Ji Wu had never seen before, with fierce features and a natural air of authority.

“I am Ji Wu, honored to meet you, sir.”

Ji Wu began his salute from a distance, his eyes full of curiosity, as though the highest figure from the books he had studied had stepped into the real world.

“So, you’re the one who claims to know an Immortal? And says the Spring Immortal will soon return?”

King Zhao grinned broadly, revealing a set of large white teeth. Yet his tone was anything but friendly. “What is this Immortal of yours like? Can he take a couple of punches from me?”